onthebrynk

Mr. Cyril Mason sighed, pushing the folio of accounts that he had been struggling to comprehend, across his desk and away, temporarily, from him. How had that investment in the Longley estate gone so wrong? How was he going to explain to Louise that profits were going to be down again this year? Times were tough for the building industry … but even so. He then moved to his default position – himself. Should he withdraw the order he had put in for that MG C sports car? He knew that he could still afford it, but Louise would be scathing.

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Cyril Mason looked in irritation across his desk at the man he thought he had removed from his world … how wrong was this proving to be!

‘Bill, how can I give you a good reference when I’ve just sacked you for not doing your job?’

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Eventually, as a cold trickle of water found its way underneath her scarf and down the back of her neck, Jan couldn’t contain her frustration anymore, ‘How much longer have we got to stand here freezing to death watching this ………….?’

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Mr. Brown tried to lean on the bar in a manner he hoped indicated that this was something he did often and was entirely comfortable with. He had arrived early, far too early, and now in his nervousness had almost drunk the pint of bitter he had ordered. Just as he was wondering whether he could cope with a second, fortune smiled on him (sort of). Cyril Mason sauntered in through the doors and made a beeline.

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‘I’m not going back,’ Davey, for the umpteenth time, told his Mum and Dad across the scullery table on Monday evening.

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Early Saturday lunchtime saw Bill and Davy catch the bus across the town to the football club. Bill had told Davy that he no longer had the van as he had handed his notice in at work after an argument with the boss. Davy knew different but had nodded. He also chose not to comment on Bill’s assertion that he would soon find another job.

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Ethel Chadwick stood on the pavement watching somewhat vacantly the bus from which she had just alighted disappear around the corner. She sighed, then stooped to pick up two big bags of groceries, one in each hand (for balance she used to say) and began the trudge to her street and her home. It had been a long day and she had agreed to work overtime that evening to help re-arrange some of the counters in the Woolworths where she worked as a floor supervisor. They would be glad of the extra money, what with the rent on their small terrace house going up again, but …………

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J didn’t utilise the two hours available for sleeping very well before his Mum was at the door calling him down for breakfast. Round and round in his head was his parting conversation with Mo, a good hour after dawn.

‘I won’t lie to my Dad, Mo ….. I can’t.’

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‘Ugggggghhhhh,’ retched Eb, hands on his knees, ‘Yuuuuuukkkkk’, he gasped, before retching again.

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‘But what’s the point?’, Dob’s face creased into incomprehension as he carefully held the folded paper that seemed to have two mouths, depending on how you held it.’

‘It’s just a bit of fun,’ laughed Mo, ‘just like pushing this tank of smelly water around, no point, just fun.’

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